Ultimate Superman 1 to 4: Reason
by steave
Summary: He is our greatest champion, he is Superman. Redefining Earth's greatest hero for a new generation, witness KalEl tackle planes, helicopters, Arabian descrimination, and Lois Lane! He has returned!
1. Issue 1

"Reason"

Part 1 of 4

Steave

Not like this, it couldn't end like this.

Jor-El was a marvelous scientist, the likes of which that had never been seen on the face of Krypton. His accomplishments were outstanding. His relationship with the Kryptonian Council, was not.

They never approved of his raving, what they felt was bordering on ludicracy, type machinery and inventions. Jor-El didn't see why the Council had never approved his inventions and discoveries. One, in particular, sent the Council into a frenzy.

The Yellow Sun Theory.

If a Kryptonian were to ever be hit with the ultraviolet rays that that eminates from the golden star, he or she would become in many ways, like a god. Enhanced strength, speed, durability, even the power to fly. Jor-El, while completely confident in his research, was yet to test this theory.

The Council had refused to believe that a mere Kryptonian could turn into a god. The very thought of one of their own achieving this kind of status was impossible. A normal Kryptonian could in no way what so ever turn into a super-being. The Council found this theory repulsive, and a disgrace to all science, Kryptonian or otherwise.

Another explosion rocked Jor-El out of his daydreaming. Only one thing mattered now, only one.

The planet was tearing itself apart. Another fact that Jor-El had presented to The Council, and another that was disregarded. The Council could've built enough ships to save the entire population of Krypton. Now, there was only one ship, for one. A child. His child, Kal-El.

The ship's construction had began an entire year before the catastrophic disaster. A small, child-sized transportation device. Inserted into the ship's computer was a crystal. Jor-El and his wife, Lara, had recorded brief lectures of Kryptonian life, and history. This would help the boy to learn about his ture heritage when the time came.

A pillar of flame discharged through a nearby skyscraper. He could feel the searing heat inside of his own room. The screams were lost in the roaring flames, and Jor-El knew that there was no time. He rushed through the yellow neon-illuminated hallway that led to the room that housed the rocket.

"Dear?"

It was Lara, she was crying, holding their only son. She now looked as if a heavy burden had been laid on her shoulders. The fate of their son's life now lay soley in the hands of his parents.

"Yes Lara, what is it?"

"Will . . . will he make it?"

"Yes my love, our son's future is assured."

"Where is he being sent?"

"To a planet named Earth, it revolves around a yellow sun. He will be known as a god among the men of the world, and perhaps give the people hope that I could not here on Krypton."

"Will he make the journey?"

Jor-El remained silent at this next query. He had made all of the necessary calculations, figured all of the coordinates, and filled the rocket with enough fuel for the journey. All that remained was for his son to have the will to live.

"If his destiny is to give hope . . . then he will."

With that last statement, they entered the dark room. A small cylindar of light illuminated the center of the room, revealing a small rocket. The ground shook with the force of 1,000,000 earthquakes. Krypton was being torn asunder, and their house remained erect. So far, so good.

Jor-El glanced at Lara, and immediately noticed the alarm and trepidation that washed over her beautiful visage. The worry and doubt had consumed her, and she gripped Kal-El tighter with anxiety.

"We have to hurry my dear, time is of the essence."

"You . . . you have always been right my dear, I do not see why I should start to doubt you now."

Lara, reluctantly, handed Kal-El over to his father, only after giving him a tender kiss on his brow. Jor-El looked at his son one last time, peering into his future, trying to convince himself of the man that this boy would become.

"Farewell . . . my son."

Jor-El embraced his son, and placed him into the spaceship. The glass panel sealed behind Kal-El, and the computers began to switch on. Jor-El could smell the Kryptonian fuel emitting from the engine. With a stutter, the spacecraft exploded from its pedestal, and crashed through the window above. Shards of glass fell into the room, and Jor-El knew, it was the end.

"I love you Lara."

"And I love you Jor-El, so very much."

The two shared one final passionate kiss, and then all was overcome in fire and dust. The planet known as Krypton uttered a final cry, and then was silenced with an incredible explosion.

The memories of all lived on in one . . . Kal-El.

--

27 years later.

"Whew boy."

Clark exhaled out of pure amazement at the construct. The Daily Planet, a true skyscraper, and the tallest building in all of Metropolis, was a monument to behold.

Though news journalism was no interest of Clark's, it was the job that best suited his purpose. A purpose known only to a few. A purpose, given to him from his father.

A vision appeared to him of his uncle, John, telling him, "Clark, you came here for a reason. Showing off your talents isn't it. It's something much greater, so very much greater.

Clark was brought back to the present by a very obnoxious carhorn.

"Hey! Buddy! Get outta the road willya!" A disgruntled taxi driver with a face to match his attitude grimaced at Clark.

"Oh, sorry sir." With that, Clark entered through the revolving doors to the Daily Planet, Earth's primary source for information and news.

He entered into the bustling mass of reporters, journalists, photo journalists, editors, and all other categories and subcategories of newspeople. Most were too busy texting on their cell phones or thumbing through various reports to notice Clark mozy his way into the building. A beautiful, yet almost geeky, woman sat behind the front desk of the Planet.

"May I help you sir?"

"Um, yes," Clark said, fidgeting with his glasses, "Perry White wanted to speak to me about the possibility of a, uh, job."

"Mr. Kent?"

"Yup, that's me."

"56th floor Mr. Kent."

"T-thank you miss."

"Anytime."

Clark heard the clerk mutter "loser" under her breath. Everything was going great, just fantastic.

--

"OLSEN! GET IN HERE!"

Jimmy Olsen nearly jumped out of his seat at the "Chief's" words. He had only started a week prior to today and he was already getting used to the sudden outbursts that came from Perry's office. Jimmy had never heard the Chief scream any name quite as loud as Jimmy's. It started to make Olsen feel like he should change his name, maybe then the Chief wouldn't be able to yell it quite so loud.

"OLSEN! I SAID GET IN HERE, NOW!"

"Coming Chief . . ."

Jimmy hurried as fast as he could from his desk to the Editor-in-Chief's office. Behind the desk sat the old and not quite so good Perry White. His hair color was the same as his last name indicated. Perry was an old and tried man, ready for anything . . . almost.

"How many times did I have to yell to get you in here Olsen?"

"Twice Chief."

"That's twice too many, now sit your ass down."

Jimmy did it without even thinking about it.

"Now, we got a newcomer on the scene, he should be here any moment. His name's Clark Kent. When he gets here, I want you to show him around, introduce him to some of our people, make him feel like he belongs here. You got that Olsen?"

"Yes sir, loud and clear."

"Good, now get out there and get me some damn coffee."

"But sir . . ."

"OLSEN!"

"I'm on it Chief."

Today was looking to be a very interesting day.

--

Clark stepped out of the elevator and was ambushed by a rush of reporters. After what seemed like hours, he squeezed through the mob. What time of day do people just rush out of the office like that, I mean, it's only 11 . . .

Clark managed to find a clock, the time was 12, he was already an hour late. Good, excellent, just what he needed.

He walked to the Editor-in-Chief's office and stepped in. Sitting behind the desk was Perry White, an old and tired man with a cigarette in his hand.

"Are you Kent?"

"Yes, yes I am Mr. Perry."

"Have a seat Kent."

Clark sat in the chair, already getting used to this position. He felt he would be here very often.

"So, I understand you want a job as a reporter, is that correct?"

"Y-yes sir, yes I do."

"Well, you're gonna have to learn something first."

"What's that sir?"

"To not . . . be . . . late."

"Oh, about that sir, well, you see . . ."

"Don't worry about it Kent. Now then, we're gonna get you used to the folks that work for the Planet. Now then . . . damnit, excuse me for a second Kent."

"Of course sir."

Perry stood up, exposing his somewhat round stomach, and walked to the door. He opened it all the way and then proceeded to scream, "OLSEN! GET IN HERE NOW!"

Within a flash, a scrawny, pale, orange-red haired kid stepped in front of Perry White.

"You called sir?"

"Now's the part when you got off your ass and showed Mr. Kent around."

"Right away sir."

Jimmy Olsen walked towards Clark, who finally stood up. Compared to Olsen, Clark was and felt like a giant. Olsen was only a young man, fresh out of high school trying to follow in his father's footsteps. Clark, well, he was a different story.

"If you'll follow me Kent, I'll introduce to some of the nice people at the Planet."

"Oh that would be very nice of you Jimmy."

They began to explore together around the floor, stopping to talk to various reporters, none of which interested Clark. Until finally, they stopped at one. A young, elagently beautiful woman with raven black hair. Her name was . . .

"Lois Lane."

"Clark Kent, n-n-nice to meet you Ms. Lane."

"Oh, you can just call me Lois."

"She's the Planet's top reporter. Hopefully I'll be able to photograph one of her articles for her."

"Just maybe Jimmy, now get on out of here with your friend, I got this work to finish."

As the pair walked away, Clark could hear what sounded like ticking. Not clock-ticking, but more like . . . timer ticking. He shot a glance back in Lois' direction. A woman was standing next to Lois, giving her a package. The woman seemed to hurridly run to the elevator after delivering the package.

Clark whispered, "Oh, no."

--

Olsen felt like he was dying.

He was covered in rubble, the entire 56th floor had collapsed, and he knew not how far exactly he was thrown through the floor when the bomb had exploded. He was bleeding internally, and externally, yet he felt like he could've been damaged so much more when the bomb went off.

Poor Lois, he thought. She was right there when the explosion took place, he could only think how horrible she looked, if she was even in one piece. Lois, the star reporter of the Planet, was dead, and Jimmy felt partly responsible. There was nothing any of them could've done, but he felt the guilt and frustration of not being able to do anything.

The sun was shining on him now, the bomb had blown a hole the size of Texas through the wall of the Daily Planet. He could hear the sirens coming towards them, the sign of rescue, but Jimmy felt like he had been rescued. Why wasn't he dead? Why?

Then, almost in response to his thoughts, he saw something . . . or someone floating in front of him, shielding him from the sun. After adjusting his eyes, he could tell, yes, it was a man. Or, at least, the silhouette of a man.

Whoever he was, he was floating, not falling or standing, but floating in thin air. It was unlike anything Jimmy had ever seen before. The sirens began to come closer, and the man glanced at the direction of the sirens, almost telling Jimmy that he couldn't stay for too long.

Out of pure instinct, Jimmy reached for his camera, which remarkably was more intact than he was. He then did the only and last thing he could before he passed into unconsciousness, he took the picture.


	2. Issue 2

"Reason"

Part 2 of 4

by Steave

Space has always been cold, uncaring, and quiet. It was, indeed, peaceful, now harboring an alien, as he floated above the Earth. Listening for where he would be needed most, and, in the blink of an eye, he would race towards the planet, ready to save someone else. It had gone on like this since the Daily Planet had been under attack.

Kal-El, flew from the wreckage of the Daily Planet, and threw himself towards the skies, embracing the sun's warm embrace. He then went further, towards the atmosphere, and into space. He then floated, closing his eyes, and listening intently to where he would be needed next.

He could percieve and understand all of the various messages coming into his ears all at once. Space was the one place he could go and hear everything at once. From a man walking towards work in London, to a pen being dropped in a small home in Tokyo.

The varying sounds and voices were hitting him all at once, and yet, he could pick each one apart and understand all that was being said, and whether to go help or not. Then, he could hear one voice say, "Oh my God, we have a problem."

Kal already knew what it was, an airplane was going down due to some difficulties with the engine. And just like that, he flew to save them, without even one second of hesitation.

In less than 10 seconds, he was on top of the plane, looking for the damage. The engine had almost been blown to pieces, how this happened didn't matter. Getting those people to safety did.

They were above Chicago, he knew that already. If he could just get them to an air strip, all would be fine.

He flew underneath the plan, and dug his fingers through the bulk of the plane, gripping it with his strong hands, and forcing it to go down. He could hear the pilots panicking even more, now accepting that the fate of this airplane was not in their hands.

The strip was coming closer, and now it was time for phase two of Kal's plane. He let go of the plan and flew in front of it. They would be nose-diving into the airstrip in 30 seconds, he had to be fast. He places his palms on the front of the plan and pushed with all of his might. This was the first time he had ever tried anything like this. Honestly, he had never handled anything so heavy before in his life.

It started to slow down, and the passengers were screaming, not out of terror, but out of deep satisfaction. In one minutes time, Kal was standing on the runway, holding an airplane perpendicular to the strip. He then eased his way underneath the plane, and set it down properly.

What seemed like hundreds of people, came towards him, all flashing their cameras at him and asking questions. Kal only smiled, and flew towards the plane's door, ripping it off of the hinges to get the passengers out safely. He only smiled, and saluted the passengers, pilots, photographers, and reporters.

Then, as quickly as he had appeared, he flew off, to save some other souls who needed saving. He could hear the reporters talking with each other. They had already thought of a name to call him. It would headline all of the newspapers.

Superman. His name is Superman.

--

Jimmy Olsen awoke to the sound of Perry White chewing out a poor and defenseless nurse for not having the ambulances sent sooner to the Planet. Olsen only rolled his eyes and shifted his weight in his bed, only making his condition worse. That man, or whatever it was, it had saved them all.

He could hear the nurse telling Perry that at least there were no casualties. It had saved them all. Perry turned around, leaving the nurse to her own devices, and walked towards Olsen. Jimmy thought about closing his eyes, not wanting to hear about how he could've done this to him. But, reluctantly, he left his eyes open.

"Olsen!"

"Y-yes sir?"

"What have you been doing? Daydreaming, you scared me half to death. How do you feel?"

"W-well sir, no . . ."

"Eh, what does it matter, you're alive and you got a good picture."

"W-what are you t-talking about Mr. White?"

"Take a look at this."

Olsen gazed at a photo, the picture was incredibly blurred. Then, he realized it wasn't that the picture was out of focus, it was that his eyes were. After readjusting his eyes, he could see the picture starting to come into focus. It was a man, his back to the sunlight, and a red flowing cape was fluttering behind him in the wind. He wore some kind of blue outfit with a yellow pentagon outlined in red on his chest. In the center of the shape, was a red S.

"Who is he?"

"Superman. His name is Superman."

--

Lois finally awoke, only what seemed like seconds after an explosion rocked the entire building. She tried as hard as she could to piece together the memories of what had all transpired. What she got instead was a cacophany of noises and blurred visions. Whatever had happened, she wasn't quite sure.

"Are you alright?"

A kind and caring voice came from behind her. Standing on the edge of the rooftop (which now she realized was on top of the Daily Planet) was a man. He wore a blue suit and had a red cape. On his chest was a red S.

"I . . . I think so."

"You were knocked unconscious when one of those rocks fell on your head."

She reached back, feeling the top of her head. There was a bump on her head that stung to touch.

"How did I get up here?"

The man only nodded beyond her. In answer, she turned around, looking a hole in the roof of the Daily Planet.

"Oh. How did you get here so fast?"

"I was around."

"Was anyone . . ." Her sentence trailed off, not wanting to think of the possibility.

"No. No one was killed. The photographer, Jimmy Olsen, he was hurt the worst, but he's fine by now."

"Who . . . who are you?"

"Well, I think that's for you to decide."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean, the news reporters are typically the ones who give mysterious people who commit great or terrible things their names, are they not?"

"You're right. Do you plan on sticking around?"

"I'm always around."

He turned towards the edge of the roof and Lois ran towards him, stopping halfway. He turned around.

"Could I, by chance, get an interview with you?"

He smiled a friendly smile and said, "Tomorrow night."

He then flew off the side of the building, off towards the sun.

"Superman. His name is Superman."


	3. Issue 3

"Reason"

Part 3 of 4

by Steave

She could hardly believe it, she had just had a conversation with a god.

he had stood on the rooftop only moments earlier, in all of his majesty. His cape billowing in the wind like some king or warrior of the medieval ages. His looks, oh God his looks. She had never seen anything that amazing before. He was just . . . undescribable. And here she was, on top of the Daily Planet, smoking a cigarette.

"Lois!"

The voice was unforgettable, and so was the pitch. Perry White was standing at the door that led to the roof.

"Yes, Perry?"

"It's about time I found you, anyways, come down to the office, I want to talk to you."

"Sure thing Perry."

Superman, was all that she could think of. The . . . Man of Steel.

--

He stood in the cold sanctity of his home . . . his Fortress.

He had finally revealed himself to the world, this great world. He couldn't even begin to descibe how good it had felt, after all of those years of hiding and secrecy, he could show himself to the people. Free, was all he thought, finally free.

"How did it feel, Kal?"

The caring and kindest voice in the galaxy asked him. He was staring at one of the crystal pillars, which bore the image of an elegantly dressed man with a symbol on his neck that was symmetrical to the one on Kal's on chest.

"It felt . . . great father."

"I was afraid of that . . ."

"Afraid?"

"Once you showed yourself to the world, I knew that there would be nothing else I could do. You have grown up, my son. My teachings for you are complete."

"No father, there are still lessons, teachings that I must learn."

"I'm afraid that the rest of your lessons, Kal-El, must be learned by experience, not by mere discussions with your father."

"But . . . father . . ."

"My son, I have never, and will never leave you. I'm sure that you have ascertained that these are mere recordings, and nothing more. My spirit, however, will live on in you . . . and so will my love for you. My son, beware of the dangers of showing the world who you are, and tread lightly, for who knows what evils lurk about in this world. With this, I leave you my son. Goodbye, for my love will forever be with you . . ."

"Father . . ."

The image faded, until all Kal was watching was a motionless crystal. He was alone, again, and he felt that he would be until the end of his days.

--

Superman, was all that she was thinking, even amidst all of Perry's rambling.

"I mean, he's here one second, and he's gone the next. I want to know who the hell he is. How the hell he does even one fourth of the things he does. Why does he do it? Where did he come from? Why is he here? All of those things, do you understand me?"

Lois finally snapped back into the real world, "Of course Perry."

"Good, now then, with Jimmy out of commission for a few days, you're going to have to take some pictures yourself, is that ok?"

"Yeah, sure Perry."

"Alright, well . . . where's Kent?"

"Who?"

"KENT!"

Perry spung on his heels to find that the mild-mannered reporter was stumbling and bumbling his way into his office.

"Oh, h-hi Mr. White."

"Kent, I've been looking for ya, where've ya been?"

"W-well, I was," Clark didn't even get to finish his sentence.

"Nevermind, the mayor requested an interview to give Metropolis his opinion of what's happened, I want you to conduct that interview Kent."

Lois began before Clark could, "No, I'll do it Perry. It'll give Clark a night off."

She looked at him and winked. Clark nearly doubled over from the look.

"Gee, thanks Lois."

"Anytime Clark."

Perry stated, "Well, that chopper oughta be getting here anytime now, so you better get to it."

"Sure thing Perry," she turned to Clark and put a hand on his shoulder, "goodnight Clark."

Lois, was all that he could think of, the female reporter of his dreams.

--

She was on the rooftop, once again, of the Daily Planet, only this time a chopper had landed to carry her off to her interview. Her head still hadn't cleared after all of the action from today. He just . . . wow, that was the one word that came to her head. Maybe Clark should've been the one to do this interview.

"This way Ms. Lane."

The pilot was helping her into the helicopter, they would be taking off any minute now. She couldn't wait for tomorrow, the interview of all interviews, her night with the Man of Steel.

The engine kicked to life and the rotors began to spin. She would take to the skies . . . just like him.

Just then, a noise, barely heard over the bustling roar of the helicopter's engine, rang out. The helicopter shook, and a creaking noise was heard. The rotors were stuck, and they were trying to break free.

The same noise rang out, and now she knew what it was, a bullet. It hadn't even been a second after she heard the shot when she and the helicopter were rocked by an explosion from underneath the helicopter. The massive vehicle rolled on the rooftop and then finally plunged towards the ground.

She screamed at the top of her lungs, not even overcoming the engine's clamor. There was no hope, she had survived one explosion only to be killed by another. There would be no Man of Steel, no savior, only death.

How could he let her die?

With a jerk and a sudden stop, the helicopter was in suspended animation. They were halfway down from the rooftop to the ground, and now they were going back up. She was astounded, and didn't know what to do.

When they reached the rooftop, the helicopter door ripped open and standing there, was her hero. Superman, in all of his glory.

"Just couldn't get enough of me could you?"

She blushed and turned her flushed cheeks, because she hadn't gotten enough of him. He extended one of his massive hands and helped her out of the helicopter. The pilot followed suit.

"I hope this hasn't deterred either one of you from flying. Statistically speaking it's still the safest way to travel."

He then turned and flew off, leaving both the pilot and Lois in amazement.

Once he reached the adjacent rooftop, he had already found him. The perpetrator for blowing the Daily Planet and the helicopter.

He pulled out a handgun and fired one shot, it bounced off of Superman like it was made of plastic. Reaching out for it, he grasped the gun from the man's hands, he crushed it. With the other, he raised the man off of the ground and unmasked the man of black.

He was Arabian . . .

_Oh God _he thought, _this won't go over well_ . . .


	4. Issue 4

"The Reason"

Part 4 of 4

by Steave

"Why do you do it? Why?"

The Arabian man began to tremble, but quickly stiffened, and began to speak.

"Your people," he nodded to the Daily Planet, "and your news, always portrays as something we are not. We are not killers, we are human beings, like your country."

"Then stop acting like a killer."

"What?"

"What the U.S. has done in descriminating your people is wrong, yes, but all you have shown me is that you are like all of those people you hear about in the newspapers and on television. Be yourself and stop showing us that all you do is kill. What you have done today hasn't helped your country's reputation one bit."

"But we are tired of your country and people telling everyone else that we are killers when we are not."

"Then stop acting like killers. All you have done is made yourself into what the press has showed of your people. I know that you aren't all killers. But when you allow yourself to become one, what else are we supposed to think?"

The man was silenced, obviously, the thought had never crossed his mind.

"I know you are a good person, and I know that you are tired of all of the bad press and descrimination. But do something else other than blowing things up to tell America differently."

"Well, there's no chance for that now, now I'm just going to prison."

Kal stood in thought, and came to a sudden realization.

"You deserve a second chance. Your nation deserves a second chance. But if yours does, so does ours. I want you to tell your people to stop pretending to be something they are not and start being what they are. You are all good people, and so are we."

Superman set the man on the ground and tears were streaming from his eyes. The man did all he could think of, embrace the Man of Steel.

Superman, startled at first, wasn't quite sure what to make of the situation, then, he hugged him back. He had never felt like this before, like he had truly made a difference. The feeling was overwhelming, and he knew it was right.

He took a few steps back and put his arm around the man's shoulder, "Come on. Lets get you home."

--

He was home, finally. The trip had been surprisingly short and awe-inspiring. Seeing all of the people from the skies, being cheered along the way, this was what he had wanted. Even when they reached Afghanistan, his home country, all of the sorrow was washed away.

The god-like man set him down in one of the central streets of Kabul. With a wave and a salute to the people, he was off, back towards the sun.

"Who was that?" A little boy asked him.

"Superman . . . his name is Superman."

--

He returned to Metropolis, the city looked so beautiful in the night. All of the lights and neon, it reminded him of visions of home. But this was his home now, forever and ever.

She knew that he would be back, and she was still waiting for him on the roof. He swelled with love and endearment, she was one in a million.

"I knew you would be back."

"Didn't want to leave you with just two sentences."

"Who . . . who are you?"

"Aren't those questions supposed to be answered tomorrow?"

"Oh . . . right."

He could see the disappointment in her.

"Where will you be?"

"Oh, well, where do you want me to interview you?"

"How about at your place?"

"Do you know where it is?"

"I'll find it."

"Well . . . until then I guess."

"Until then . . ."

She began to turn away and then he walked towards her. Hearing his footsteps, she anxiously turned towards him.

"Yes?"

"I, I never got your name?"

"Lois . . . Lois Lane."

"Goodnight Lois."

"Goodnight . . ."

He flew off into the night, and she finished, " . . . Superman."

--

The plane landed an hour after scheduled . . . he was in every bit of the word, agitated.

He had been gone for four years, business, as it were. Metropolis would welcome him home, the mayor, the people, the Planet.

Ah, the Planet, and the ever astonishing Lois Lane. He hadn't forgotten her and her unwavering spirit, and questions to match. The woman was the face of the Planet, and that was a very nice face.

The airport was quiet and empty, just as he liked it. No one to welcome him home or ask their questions . . . yet. He passed a T.V. in one of the concession stands and stopped. The footage was that of a man, or what looked like a man in a red cape and blue outfit rescuing a falling helicopter while the crowd and mass of people under him cheered on.

He removed his hat and stroked his bald head, muttering to himself.

"Interesting . . . this is most interesting . . ."

THE END

_This issue is dedicated to the U.S. military and to all of you who have family, and friends over seas. They are loved and missed. Alex, this one is for you buddy._


End file.
